


the blue words

by llgf



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 21:50:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5556746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llgf/pseuds/llgf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something striking when you meet your soulmate's eyes, and Klaus refused to believe in it until he saw her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the blue words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lannisterofslytherin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannisterofslytherin/gifts).



> It's for Brittany-Jane and I really hope you'll like it! Happy Holidays! Happy New Year, I hope you'll have an amazing one! :)   
> (as soon as you know who I am (mouahaha) don't hesitate to ask if you want more! I'll be glad and happy to do it!)

Life is black and white. Shades of fuzzy gray, are embroidering each other. The light is white, darkness is black.

The face of his family is only a mixture of those colors, sometimes the sky is dark gray, sometimes light gray, and the grapes are different shades of gray.

_Gray._

_Black._

_White._

Nothing else.

Though, that’s not the case for everyone.

"You see, this grape is _green_ , and this glass of wine is _red_ , while this one is _white_."

He sounds like he’s teaching a kid.

But those words are foreign, strange to his ears, as if he was describing a form of distant and unrecognizable life, so unimaginable. He’s read books, trying to describe the different colors, but how to see things differently, in polychrome, through words written in black on white pages?

He remembers when he had cut his hand, a cool, grayish liquid fluctuating from the wound. How would it be if he could see? If he had met _her_ or _him_?

You’ll notice her, without a doubt, they told him, and once you look into her or his eyes, you’ll see the world as it really is, you’ll see the world as you see her.

Colors.

He is actually the last in his family.

It has even more a bitter taste to him, because he is the fruit of the love between two soul mates. His mother had two children she has seen in gray.

Then she met a man, simple, modest, a nobody, but he was _colorful_ in her vision. Her soul mate. From this prohibited union was born a child, who asked nothing to anyone, but will still receive the blows of a cuckolded and betrayed father who looked at the world in gray. Perhaps that’s why he never smiled – because he could not distinguish colors – while his wife, _that bitch_ , had been so lucky – but with another.

Both parents ended up killing each other. One letting her life extinguish, no longer able to live without _his_ colors – torn away from her too soon from the disease – and the other by a too fragile heart when his fists were too often tight.

He hated this fate. He hated having to _just wait_. What if he ended like his father? Forced to marry a woman who did not love him, and will never do, this hard truth looming over their heads?

He got older. Day after day, trying to find the eyes of women, or even men, to try to understand what his brother could mean by _green_ , or _blue_ , while wondering if he really wanted to know. If it was worth it.

The floor was covered in white this winter. Frank Sinatra sang, and people walked past his stand, their white breath, their gray cheeks. They held hands. He could not help wondering if they had found _it_.

It was the tradition, for the Christmas market, the Mikaelsons sell mulled wine from their vineyards, while perpetuating the spirit of Christmas. His sister had forced him to wear _green_ and _red_ , even though it seemed like the same thing to him.

He serves a cup of wine to an old lady, giving her a smile. How does she see him?

He runs a hand through his hair, the tormented obsession agitating him. Could he suffer, in addition to being the bastard of the family, from being the only one whose vision remains monochrome? Will he become as bitter as his father? Or crazy in the fierce search of something that will possibly never happen?

He raises his eyes, in a last attempt to focus on his task, after he spent minutes looking at his black shoes.

A dot of light floating in the crowd makes his eyes open. His whole body is stiff, its members still while he sees it disappear.

An indescribable light. It is not white, it is not gray or black, but it illuminates the whole picture, as if for the first time, he finally noticed the centerpiece of the scene.

Vibrant, vivid, remarkable.

He unknots his apron, shoving it in his brother’s hands. “Be right back.” He mutters, before rushing after the dot of colors shining in the grey crowd.

What if?

It’s something he’s never seen before. It’s not gray, it’s not white or black, it’s indescribable. If it’s a color, which one is it? If she is the one, who is she?

He rushes through the mass, elbowing some people on his way, forgetting to at least mutter a sorry. He’s on a mission, he wants to find it, this fainting light of hope strolling through the crowd.

He’s getting closer. Step by immense step.

He stops dead in his track just as _she_ does the same.

He has never seen her before, he’s certain that it’s _her_.

She stopped. She emanates a lighted confidence, head high, smiling, her short dress flowing with the wind, a heavy coat on her shoulders, her legs covered with black tights and high boots, a little bag stuck on the inside of her elbow. Her light hair untied, her perfect curls flowing with the winter wind. Her breath is white, her cheeks flushed from the cold. Her long neck, covered with a wool scarf. Her face.

She is beautiful. The kind of beauty you can’t erase from your mind, always here when you close your eyes. She reminds him of a Greek statue. Her skin, pale as marble, the contour of her face, drawn with the angles of an art piece.

Her face is not simply white, her cheeks are not greyish, her eyes are not black. He can see her, differently than the others.

It is not in black, white or grey, but the vivid, vibrant colors that strike him. He could not describe it, not describe her colors, palette, given that until today, his world was monochrome.

But there she was, in color. He lists all the colors he knows - yellow, blue, purple - imagining what her favorite colors might be, what color were her eyes, her cheeks, her lips. Could he really put into words the things he had just discovered? Could he distinguish the blue from the pink?

Could he create a palette from _her_ colors?

She was a dot of multiple colors in a crowd of grey, she illuminated his vision, bringing it back to life.

Her hair was so pale it seemed to be white, her skin too, even though there seemed to be light shade on her cheeks.

He smiles. Her figure a colorful vision. She’s biting her lower lip, and scrunching her nose. He could draw her – without an ounce of black.

Though he loses his smile when he sees her delicate hand caressing a man’s forearm. She kisses him, lightly, and Klaus groans.

He feels like she got a grip on his heart and she started squeezing it, determined to get it out of his chest.

He’s never been one for romance, or eternal love, but if he could feel his heart break, it would be at her hand.

It’s impossible.

You can only have one soul mate.

She was his, without a doubt.

He needs her to see him, to look at him.

“Can I help you?”

Klaus doesn’t even understand how or when he took the last step and grabbed her forearm, but she’s looking at him, with a small smile, and he takes a breath in – like the first.

She’s breathtaking. Her eyes are analyzing his face, and their shades are unknown to him, but probably the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Are they blue? Green? Purple maybe? A line of black is making them even bigger.

And her lips, smiling uncertainly, her cheeks flushed, a deep contrast to her light complexion. He could try to describe her for hours.

But she’s slowly losing her smile and a frown graces her feature.

“Got a problem?”

A deeper voice calls him behind her. The man. He can see him in color too, actually, Klaus could turn his head and notice how the world finally changed, but he can’t seem to care as his sight stay stuck on the beauty in front of him. “No.” he breaths out. “Not at all.”

“Care, let’s go.”

“Wait” she stops him. “Do you need help?” she asks.

Her voice is full of colors too, music.

“Come on, Caroline.”

_Caroline._

“It’s you.” Klaus murmurs.

“What?” her frowns deepens, snorting as she looks at him like he’s crazy – and he must be.

“You’re my soul mate.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re my soul mate.” He repeats, more clearly, the words almost ridiculous coming out of his mouth.

She lowers her eyes, her mouth open, as confusion hits her features. “That’s not possible.”

“Why?” Klaus can’t help but ask, his face contorting in misunderstanding.

“Nothing changed. Black and white, as always.” She mutters, with a hint of sadness in her tone.

He frowns. It’s impossible. You have one soulmate, and it’s _always_ reciprocated. “But – But I see _you_. You’re full of colors.”

“Well you’re not.” She snaps, turning around to leave,

“Wait!” Klaus grabs her wrist when the other man hugs her shoulders and take his _Caroline_ away from him.

“Leave her, dude.”

Klaus looks at her retreating form, vanquished. The world around him is full of colors but the brightest of them all is walking away from him.

             He spends his time trying to create the perfect palette. Pale yellow, blue, and pink. His drawings are not monochrome anymore, and they’re not only depicting a scenery, but the same girl, over and over again, in colors. His fingers are constantly covered in paints, under his nails, on the back of his hand.

He’d learnt them, her hair is blond, her eyes blue, and her cheeks pink. He compares them to other things, the sun, the sky.

She’s obsessing. She’s always there.

Yet, she’s never truly here.

He can’t shake the uneasiness he feels when he remembers her words. _Nothing changed._

Was he cursed or something?

His thoughts are cut short by the ring of the bell, “Can I – “ to skyrocket to new heights.

She’s standing here, in all her glory, blonde hair, rosy cheeks, blue unbelievable eyes –

“Oh.” She simply mutters.

“Caroline.”

She is even more beautiful than before, if possible. He realizes that he must add white to hope to find the color of her curls, and put a touch of green to the blue of her eyes.

“Yes. Hm.” She stops, fidgeting with the straps of her bag. “I would like a bottle of wine.”

“Sure.”

He bypasses his desk, to come dangerously close to her. “ _Red_ or _white_?”

“Aha.”

He raises an eyebrow at her dry fake laugh. “What’s so funny, love?”

“It’s Caroline.”

“And I am Klaus. Pleasure to meet you.” He smirks, outstretching his hand.

She takes it, not before she gives him a roll of her eyes. “Klaus.” She repeats. “I’d like a bottle of rosé actually.”

He hums, grabbing a bottle from a shelf – he was at desk duty today, and for once he wanted to thank his brother for bailing on his job once again – “There, sweetheart.”

Caroline grabs the neck of the bottle, checking the etiquette. “Is it true?” her voice is barely above a whisper. “I mean, this whole color story, and me being – “

“My soulmate?” He looks at her, but she refuses to raise her head to meet his eyes. How he wants to tangle his fingers in her curls, to touch her and bring her to him. Should he feel this way? They never talked about how it affected you, only that you’ll notice your soulmate, but should he feel this pull? This undeniable attraction? “Yes.” He responds.

Caroline hums lowly. “Then why – “ she cuts herself before she can add anything.

She knew Tyler wasn’t the one. She didn’t really believe in this whole theory of ‘soulmates’ even if a small part of her wanted to, but she couldn’t. Not when her mother died without knowing what it felt like. Why could it be different for her?

“Don’t you feel anything else?”

She raises her head, finally, to look at his eyes – unfortunately, only in a soft shade of gray. She shrugs.

“Not even a pull? An attraction? Please, tell me love.”

He didn’t want his voice to crack but the mere of idea of an unreciprocated madness, obsession, is killing him. She is on a pedestal, even if he doesn’t know a thing about her, and he refuses to be crazy like his father or mother could have been.

“But – “ Caroline bites the inside of her cheek, her eyebrows crinkling together, “Why can’t I see it then?”

Klaus stiffens at her question. Not because he can’t answer, or because he feels like he needs to comfort her, but because she implicitly admitted that she indeed felt something. His smile widens, his hand brushing her cheek.

She takes a step back as soon as she feels his knuckles on her skin. “Stop.”

He asks her why as he takes a step forward, why could she be afraid of.

“Why can’t I? Why?” she almost yells, “How is it?” her eyes filling with tears that she refuses to let roll down as she quickly blinks her eyes.

“It’s – “ Klaus looks at her, restraining from brushing his thumb to get rid of her tears. “Overwhelming. Like you discover the world once again. You are – “

She takes a sharp intake of breath, her gaze digging into his own.

“You’re beautiful. It’s like you are the source of every color, you’re radiating.”

“That’s how I look like?” she murmurs, trying to imagine herself through his words.

“Your hair, is like the sun, it’s blonde, yellow if you’d like, it’s warm and so soft at the same time. Whereas your skin is pale and seems as cold as marble, but the blush on your cheeks makes it all alive. Your eyes are so indescribable, they’re blue, green and grey, they’re like the sky, so full of emotions and – “

He stops as he sees the smile on her face. Her smile is beautiful, it illuminates her features, and he loves the way her eyes seems to close a bit because of it, because of her huge smile.

“You sweet talker.” She laughs.

“You’re breathtaking, Caroline. With or without colors.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I can see it. But I can also feel it, and I am pretty sure you do too.”

Caroline nods slightly, returning her gaze to the bottle of wine. She does. Since she caught his eyes at the Market, he was troubling her mind. With his dimples, and delightful accent. She met some handsome guys, but she never felt this kind of attraction before, and maybe, just maybe, she could allow herself to believe it was him, even if when she looked at him, she only saw different shades of black and white.

“Did you really come only for a bottle of rosé?” He finally asks with a smirk.

“Touché.”

             It’s the kiss, that totally persuades her. After some wooing, and flirting, she lets him kiss her after their date, and the way his lips moved against her own, how his tongue traced the seam of her mouth, how her whole body seemed to be eaten by heat and flames, was enough to persuade her that if he could see her in colors, it must be true. That if she couldn’t see them, she could _feel_ them, as maddening as it sounds.

They thought they would have to live with this uncertainty, _what if there was another for her_ , but the doubt never really settled. Perhaps because he never stopped describing her all the colors she could not see, but she could discern through him. And if she never got to see what the red, blue or green actually looked like, she had so much more: a loving husband willing to enlighten everything to her.

“She has blue eyes, just like ours, and very light hair, just like yours, but she has my lips.” Klaus said, looking at the bundle in his wife’s arms. “And she actually has a little birthmark on her shoulder, rosy, a little dot, almost unnoticeable.” He smiles, before kissing Caroline’s forehead. “And you, my love, are so pale, you must rest, and Rose too.”

She hums, letting her husband take the baby from her. “I love you, Klaus.”

“And I, you.”

 Color blindness be damned. 


End file.
